5th Love.
The first was kind. A brick wall. Stolid and thoughtful.
Who never wanted more and was content to live in half-time.
The second led me through mathematical mazes.
Taking hexagonal routes to cross-legged meetings.
We would eat magic mushrooms and view the world in 3D.
The third was my James Bond. Spy-like with a mysteriousness
that lifted him over moral hurdles. His currency was secrecy
and he left as abruptly as he had arrived. With no trace left.
The fourth was a mixed up tried-too-hard seeker of sensation.
Spoilt by many sisters and lost in the shallows of his own head.
But you, the fifth and best are a distillation of what they all lacked.
You are my counterpart. Mirror. Soul-mate. My teacher and pupil.
You repaired what the others left damaged. I hope that in time
your shine will be genuine nine carat and not mere gold-plating.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem